


Don't Run

by Lastavica



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Tower, Clint Barton Feels, Developing Friendships, Disregards AoU, F/M, Fear, Friendship, Healing, Hulk Smash, Natasha Feels, Secret Marriage, Stark Tower, Teambuilding, The relationship Bruce and Natasha should have had. AWESOME friendship and team dynamic!, Trust, Trust Issues, started as a one shot, the hulk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lastavica/pseuds/Lastavica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Bruce had never apologized to Natasha in the movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Begins within the week after the battle.

A knock sounded softly on the door. She looked up from her perch on the windowsill. The lights of the city down below had been holding her attention for some time now. Assuming that it was Clint, she got up to unlock the door. Nobody else but him would be there, especially at this hour. She unlocked the door with a loud click to let him know he was welcome, and then went right back to her seat at the window. There were no formalities between her and Barton, only familiarity. However, the door didn't open immediately. Clint's I-don't-give-a-shit face didn't appear from around the door. Instead, there was a long hesitation before the handle turned. There was no confident entry. The perpetually-out-of-place face of Dr. Banner sheepishly peeked in.

She sat straighter.

"Doctor."

"Hi." he said awkwardly. "Can I, uh, come in?"

Surprised, she paused.

"Yeah. Of course."

He stepped in quietly and closed the door behind him.

He could already see it on her face. Her fear of the Other Guy.

"What can I do for you, Doctor?" She asked.

He fidgeted with his hands and stepped forward.

"I came to apologize."

"What for?"

"For trying to kill you."

"That wasn't you."

Bruce looked down.

"Yeah, well, I'm still sorry."

"All's forgiven." she said indifferently.

He looked back at her. "But is all well?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Bruce took a few more steps toward Natasha. "Regardless of my responsibility, the Other Guy still attacked you. ...Are you ok?"

She was taken aback. She didn't know why.

"Yeah." she said quickly.

"But you're eyes still follow me around." He said.

All at once she wasn't the secret she thought she had been. Suddenly out in the open, she reacted accordingly; fast and fiercely.

"Because you turn into a monster! What do you want from me, Bruce?"

He bit his lip.

"And I'm sorry for that."

Natasha was silent.

They both knew he couldn't help that, but what could she say.

He stood awkwardly for a moment.

"Well," he said "goodnight then." And he turned to leave.

"Goodnight." was all she said as she watched him go.

Bruce opened the door and slipped out into the hall.


	2. Chapter 2

Only a few days after the events, Natasha disappeared along with Barton. Nobody knew where they'd gone and nobody asked. The pair clearly needed time and space. It was quietly and collectively accepted that Clint, especially, needed to get away. They couldn't see that Natasha needed it just as much.

Steve spent most of his time helping clear rubble in the city, and assisting police and firefighters in any way he could. He refused to speak to anybody who tried to interview him about The Avengers, but continued to show up and be a hero for the people.

Tony went to work on the tower and Pepper got back into the swing of things at Stark Industries. Thanks to an alien invasion, attending to business there became a lot more time consuming for the CEO.

Thor was still gone, back on Asgard.

Bruce was relaxing, or at least trying to. He was hiding in a safe place and struggling to remember that he didn't have to hide anymore. It was hard.

Maybe a month later, the tentative "team" found themselves one evening sitting around in Tony's penthouse. Clint perched on the back of one of the couches. Not even Pepper bothered to ask him not to keep his boots on the cushions. His right knee leaned subtly against Nastasha's left shoulder. He didn't say anything, but his greyish eyes carefully followed the faces and movements of everyone in the room. Natasha sat cross legged, holding a steaming cup of tea in her hands as she engaged in subdued conversation with Steve who was sitting across from them in a comfortable chair. Pepper, sat in another nearby chair and mostly listened. She was tired and really didn't have much to add to their conversation about the Soviet's role in WWII. Though, listening to it was interesting enough. She didn't mind.

They'd eaten dinner together and now each enjoyed tea or coffee.

Bruce sat at the table, sipping decaf coffee and trying to listen to Tony talk about something they had started working on in the lab. His attention, however, was elsewhere. It was on Natasha. He watched her from behind his mug. It was unclear to him why it mattered that she was afraid of him. So what? Most people were. Why was Natasha any different?

Maybe spending some weeks with mostly just Tony, Pepper, and a little bit of Steve had spoiled him. Only 3 days ago she and Clint had arrived from their hiatus. Again, nobody asked where they'd gone. Not even Tony. Since then, Bruce had seen her eyes follow his movements, and the rigidness in her body when he was around. He didn't like it. What was worse, he was annoyed at himself for caring.

Admittedly, he still felt a little stupid for going to her room four weeks ago to apologize. Both of them had been more vulnerable in that moment then either would ever prefer. But it happened, and he tried not to worry about it.

When Steve eventually finished his mug of coffee, he was the first to disappear off to bed. Pepper left soon after, and then Natasha. Oddly, Clint did not immediately follow her, but stayed a little longer just listening to Stark and Banner's conversation. Bruce told Tony he had to get to bed as soon as Clint showed signs of leaving. When he rose, Bruce went with him to the elevator.

When the doors closed there was silence. It wasn't awkward, it was just Clint.

Bruce had to ask. He felt like juvenile, but he was tired of guessing, of feeling unacceptable in this place where he finally belonged. Well, at least for now he felt like he did.

"Does Natasha hate me?"

Clint's head turned to him. His stormy eyes assessed Bruce's face, searching his intentions. His thoughts could not be guessed.

"She doesn't hate you." He said simply and didn't say anything else. His gaze returned to the elevator door.

Clint's impenetrable wall of a face stopped Bruce from asking anything more. He just had to take that for what it was. The elevator opened soon after and Clint left him there without another word.

Bruce heaved a sigh and watched the numbers recede a little more before it was his turn to get out.


	3. Chapter 3

Clint entered the room quietly and closed the door behind him. Natasha was still awake just as he'd expected. It was why he didn't go with her when she left the penthouse first. At some point she always required some solitude and Clint would never deny her that. She was sitting, cross-legged in the window. Her head was turned toward the city below. Both of them liked being so high above the city, and so far they liked staying in the tower. It felt safe there, safer than on the carrier, or on any base or safe house. They were hidden up high, together.

For a moment, as Clint removed his watch and set it down, he took in the simple sight of her short red hair silhouetted against the dim night.

"So Bruce thinks you hate him." he said casually.

"I don't." She responded simply. Her eyes shifted from the city to the gold band around her finger. She twisted it a few times, something she only did when her mind was preoccupied. Natasha did not wear her ring all the time, and returned it to her finger only when she and Clint were alone. Clint kept his on a chain which always remained hidden under his shirt and close to his heart. Even after everything, neither of them felt that the "team" needed to know about their bond yet. Maybe sometime, but they still only trusted each other. Fury didn't even know, though he knew they were close, inseparable even. Coulson was the only person who ever knew of their marriage, and he was dead.

At that moment, though, Natasha Romanoff had other secrets she wished to keep hidden. She did not like being out in the open. Her fear wasn't a secret to Banner. Things were not as they should be. Bruce Banner, a man she could do away with in seconds, held a power over her. And he didn't even want that power. Natasha knew he couldn't understand what that meant for her, but he could see that she was unnerved. That was what she considered unacceptable. But there was no hand to play, no contingency, no extraction. She was there. Bruce was there.

The only thing that felt normal was hiding out with her husband, trying to mend wounds in secret. The wounds, however, were far from the norm. Clint still reeled from doing time as a marionette and she was reeling from from facing true powerlessness for the first time, and somebody else knowing it bothered her.

Clint sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots. "It's ok if you're still afraid." He said.

"I'm not afraid." She responded, looking at him sharply. The lights in the room were still off and the faint light from outside glinted in her eyes. "I was afraid."

He nodded knowingly, then rose quietly and came over to her. Without a word she made room for him beside her. Before he sat down, Clint pulled the chain out from under the collar of his shirt. He held up his ring for her to see. She looked at it, then back at his eyes.

"Be straight with me, Tasha... Please." He said.

Then he pulled himself onto the sill where he sat facing her. A few seconds later she leaned toward him. He leaned in too. Pressing their foreheads together she whispered "He wasn't there. How can I know he tried to kill me, the one time I had no angle, and he wasn't even there?"

"I'm here."

"Not helpful." She said dryly as she sat straight again. Her eyes fell back upon the city.

Clint's shoulder shook slightly with a little laughter. "Maybe it's a good thing... It's taken your whole life to run into something you couldn't get around. Life's been good to you so far?"

"Yeah. That's it." Her words dripped with sarcasm. "Barton, that is the worst interpretation of a situation I've ever heard."

"Well, I'm here aren't I."

The corners of her mouth turned up. It was true. Life had given her Clint.

"I don't hate Banner." She said, getting serious again. "He just wasn't there."

"I know." Clint said, and he did understand. For a moment they both got quiet again until he said "But you're alive, and Bruce never wanted to hurt you."

She looked over at Clint. His eyes were staring absently at his hands, his mind elsewhere.

Natasha reached out her hand to his and broke his reverie. Clint's deep eyes met hers.

"Are we talking about Bruce?" She asked.

Clint looked away from her. Then he shook his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. It's official. This runs in the same universe as "Cold". Obviously this story begins soon after that. Clint and Nat are married (sorry if you were hoping for Bruce/Natasha), and, unlike in "Total", I'm holding to canon that Natasha's can't have children. Thanks Red Room. *goes and cries forever*
> 
> (Because otherwise, they'd totally have some kids by now. I love families. What can I say?
> 
> Also I realize at the beginning of the first chapter Natasha's in her own room when Bruce comes to apologize. Yet, Clint and Nat are very married... It was a one shot that I had no intention of continuing at the time. Nor did I know exactly what I'd being doing when I did continue.
> 
> So here's Clint's alibi for the 1st chapter...
> 
> Since their marriage is secret they often stay in different rooms while at SHIELD, etc. So after a certain hour, if it's possible to get away with it he'll sneak into Natasha's room, or she'll sneak over to his. Or, they'll sleep separately if it's too risky. This is a routine they would be very familiar with. Stark Tower would be no exception. At that hour Clint would've already snuck in and have been asleep with Nat. However, after all the craziness of monsters and magic and nothing they were ever trained for, he was on the roof brooding. She'd stayed with him for a long time, then kissed his cheek and let him be alone up there. She went to bed, but couldn't sleep and ended up in the window sill looking at the city. Nat likes to sit in window sills. That's when Bruce arrived to Nat's seemingly solo room. Poor post-unmade Clint was still on the roof just hurting.
> 
> Ok. Hope you can dig it.
> 
> ;D


	4. Chapter 4

Just like he had told the council, Fury was in fact not currently tracking the whereabouts of the Avengers. However, a month and some change after the Chitauri invasion, Nick Fury knew full well that the tentative "team" was crowded into a certain skyscraper in New York City. For the time being he was still leaving them alone.

On this particular occasion, a small contingent of them were seated around Tony's penthouse where Pepper had invited them for afternoon drinks.

"...Well, I gave them the same floor. Gym, rooms everything." Tony was saying. "We knew they're close. That's pretty obvious. But is it a brother sister or thing or are they a thing?"

"Tony, I don't think it's your business." Steve tried to reason as he took the glass of scotch Stark was handing to him.

"My tower. My business." Tony summarized as he leaned on the edge of one of his bar stools.

A flying ice cube connected with his head.

"Come on, Pep!" Tony whined.

"Your guests aren't your property, Tony." She said, swirling her glass of ice tea, sitting back easily in one of the more comfortable chairs as if nothing happened.

"Whatever." Tony said with a typical roll of his eyes.

Bruce kept quiet. He didn't know, nor could he guess about the elusive pair.

"Pepper's right, Tony." Steve offered. "Nice shot, by the way." He added to Pepper.

"Thanks." She said with a nod.

"Don't side with her." Tony feigned offense.

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Are you going to spy on them?"

"I'm thinking about it."

"Tony. Natasha will kill you." Steve warned gently.

"You can't know that."

"No, but I can guess it." Steve said. "Plus. She's a spy. You can't beat them at their game when they're the best at it."

"He's right." Bruce offered.

"Leave them alone, Tony." Pepper added.

He shrugged. "I'll think about it."

Pepper knew he would do exactly as she asked.

"Why aren't they here, anyway?" Tony asked.

"Agents Romanoff and Barton are not currently in the Tower, sir." Jarvis' voice cut in.

"Anti social." Tony mumbled into his glass as he took a sip.

Another ice cube came his way, but he ducked that time.

././././././.

Bruce couldn't help thinking about Clint and Natasha as he rode the elevator down to one of the R&D labs. He really didn't care about the nature of their relationship. All he wanted was to make up to Natasha for what he did. What the other guy did. He wanted to know that Clint didn't blame him.

Why Clint?

Bruce realized he didn't think of one without the other.

He shook his head suddenly. Why should he care? He doesn't even know them. Besides, he is the Hulk. It shouldn't be a surprise or disappointment to receive negative reactions after all this time.

The elevator opened on his desired floor. Bruce left his thoughts of Barton and Romanoff behind him went to spend his evening filling his mind with work that he loved.

In thought, Bruce was tentative, not entirely accepting this set up that Tony had offered him. In action, he had fully settled in and was king of his lab.

He loved it.

For over an hour he'd been working with a microscope and had just finished writing something down next to him when his pen rolled off the desk. When he emerged from underneath it, Clint Barton was standing across from him.

Bruce flinched sharply at the surprise.

Barton said nothing. His keen eyes simply assessed Bruce's face.

Banner quickly recovered and tried to respond the same way Clint was acting; as if everything were completely normal.

"How's it going, Clint?"

"It's fine." Clint said without hesitation.

"Can I do anything for you?"

"Yeah."

There was a long pause. Bruce didn't quite know what to do.

"...What is it?" He hoped that did not sound as awkward as he felt.

"Nat said-." Clint stopped. "Look, I wanted to ask you something."

After Clint's terseness on the elevator, Bruce felt like he'd just heard a speech, but didn't let himself show it.

"Of course." He said easily.

Clint took a second to inspect his palms and then rubbed them together once.

"How do you live with it?"

Bruce instantly understood what was being asked and why. He let out a long sigh and thought for a moment.

"It'll take some time I'd wager, but when you realize you didn't choose to do any of it, it'll get easier."

That wasn't an answer. That was advice.

Clint took it silently and left.

./././././.

The next morning Clint came into the gym with his coffee. Nat was waiting for him to begin their morning sparring session. But he did not immediately set his coffee down and join her on the mat. Instead, he sat down comfortably on the bench against the wall and casually took a sip from his mug.

Natasha, who had been primed and ready for attack, concealed her mild irritation. Nonetheless Clint knew it was there.

"What's this?" She asked, still itching to get going.

"I just don't see what the hurry is. Join me." He said with a comfortable shrug.

Natasha gave a nod, agreeing that there was no rush, and went to sit beside him. Expertly she took his mug from his hands and enjoyed some of his coffee.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Clint shook his head. "Not really."

"What time did you come back to bed?"

Clint smiled inwardly. Of course she knew he'd gone. "Not too late."

"Was it cold up there last night?"

"I wasn't on the roof."

She didn't press him, but he offered. "Saw Banner."

Natasha said nothing.

"Nat, you should give him a chance." Clint coaxed. "He's cool."

"Cool?"

She wasn't certain how this suddenly became about her, but she'd recognized Bruce's quality as a person well enough from a distance. At the moment she was content with that and felt no need to get close enough to think him cool.

"We talked." Clint said with a small grin. They both knew that when Clint said "we talked" it meant something very brief.

She nodded and did not ask more. It was obvious. When she had asked him sincerely "Are we talking about Bruce?", Clint realized Dr. Banner would understand. He couldn't stay away from the one person who knew exactly what he'd been through.

He continued, eyes now on the floor. "He knows what it's like..."

She nodded, and handed his coffee back to him.

Clint looked up at her again and smiled. He put the mug on the bench and rose. Offering her a hand which she accepted, they walked out onto the mat. As he stood before her she could see his attention slip away again, just as it had a moment before.

"Clint."

He looked at her, his attention snapping away from her feet where he'd been staring.

"You won't hurt me."

He let out a shaky breath. "Yeah." He said. "I know."

She offered him one of her near-imperceptible smiles.

He gave her full eye contact, then they began.


	5. Chapter 5

It didn't take Clint more than a second to realize what woke him. He moved quickly to sit up beside Natasha.

"Hey. Hey, Nat wake up." He spoke to her as calmly as possible, careful not to touch her. He had made that mistake before in an attempt to wake her from a nightmare.

He tried again. "Tasha."

Her eyes snapped open and instantly she sat up. Clint caught her eye contact.

"You're with me."

She swallowed and nodded. Slowly she lowered herself back down to her pillow. For a few moments she just lay staring up at the dark ceiling. Clint did not move from where he sat, and kept watch over her as she regrouped.

"Tasha." He finally said quietly.

"Yes?"

"Gonna be ok?"

"Yes."

. . . . . . 

Half empty mugs of cooled coffee sat on a bench against the wall of the gym. In the center of the room, with the sun only just falling across the floor, Clint took the brunt of a provoked rage. With each blow that connected with his body, with every evasive measure she took, he knew Natasha was making a promise to herself again. She would not be helpless again. The Hulk broke that promise for her and she hated it. Clint could feel that hate. Everything that she had left in the past, the life she got away from, had been lifted above her in the form of one massive green back hand. That wouldn't happen again. She wouldn't let it.

Around the same time that Clint was allowing himself to take a beating for his wife's sake, Bruce was just taking his first sip of tea. He ran a hand through his disheveled, grey streaked hair and typed in his code to a lab. With a yawn, he shuffled into the space where he would probably spend the rest of the day.

Bruce was still hesitant to leave Stark Tower, at least on his own. During all his time in the wind he had been conditioned to hide. Run and hide, and he had. He'd done it so well for so long. Bruce knew that right now, at least in this city, he was considered a hero. But to those who might seek him as their test subject, he could be so easily found. Not only that, but what confidence he did have in his control over the other guy had been shaken significantly. Bruce knew, if he allowed himself to think about it, that what happened with Natasha Romanoff still dogged him. He could still remember the look on her face. It was the last thing he saw before the Other Guy shoved him out of the way.

No. Bruce did not yet have it in him to go wandering the streets of New York. He was afraid.

. . . . . . 

By the time evening fell, The Avengers, plus Pepper, found themselves in the penthouse. Tony, meddlesome as he was and still so eager to make sure this team thing would be a thing, had invited (coerced) everybody to dinner once again. He would make team dinners a custom if it was the last thing he did.

Again, at Pepper's insistence, it was buffet style so that nobody would feel trapped at a table. They were free to meander, catch a breath, settle or float where they chose.

Steve stood, dutiful as ever, talking with Tony. He had been growing more comfortable around Stark by way of Pepper, the wonderful mediator. It also helped that Steve was simply seeing more and more of Tony in his day to day existence. This was also true of everyone.

Bruce also stood talking with Tony and Steve. Stark wanted to discuss the science of Cap's serum, but could find no way to bring it up delicately, or naturally. It would be a sensitive subject for both of the other men. So he danced on the edges of the topic and talked immunity, something the other two had in spades.

Clint didn't feel like talking and stood by the windows, looking out over the city. Tony found it painfully noticeable, but did possess the discretion to keep his comments about moody teenagers to himself. He was really just waiting for Barton and Romanoff to do something incriminating, and that could not happen with Clint staring off into space.

Natasha was at the table having a polite conversation with Pepper. Pepper kept catching glances of Tony's eye contact from across the room. He wanted answers. She ignored him.

A little later while Natasha was at the counter preparing a cup of tea, Bruce came up beside her to refill his plate. Instantly he noticed her sudden rigidness. Although, her voice, calm and casual as ever, drew attention away from the subtle shift in her body language.

"Doctor." She continued to address him that way. He decided to let it go. If she still wanted to maintain an formal distance then he wouldn't impost first names on her.

"Hi." There wasn't much else to say. Bruce got his food as quickly as possible, sighed inwardly, and stepped away. He noticed Clint still standing by the windows and headed over there.

"Bruce." Clint greeted without looking at him, then took a sip of the beer he was holding.

"Hi," Bruce said. "Food's pretty good." he added in an attempt to make this feel normal.

Clint glanced at the plate and then over to where the food was set up. He nodded. "I'll get somethin'."

"...How's living here?"

Clint turned briefly to assess Bruce's face. He really was trying to make small talk.

"It's good. Lotta space."

"Yeah."

"This was getting painful and both men were trying to pretend they had not previously confided in one another about their respective predicaments. Bruce gave up the charade.

"Look, I uh, I just wanted to ask how you're doing."

Clint made the mistake of not hesitating for even a second. "I'm good."

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it."

"Great." was all he could say and awkwardly left Clint alone. He went back over to the table were the others were.

Clint passed by a second later, on his way to the food.

Natasha leaned against the counter, sipping her tea. She listened, from the short distance, to the general conversation that was now taking place between Steve, Pepper & Tony. Bruce had sat down at the emptier side of the table, still picking at the food on his plate. He half listened to their words while his eyes followed the pair of SHIELD agents. He watched Clint speaking in low tones to Natasha. Bruce wasn't curious, or at least he didn't think he was. Yet, he couldn't seem to help watching them interact.

Clint began to assess the food spread out on the counter in from of him. All the while he and Natasha continued to speak quietly to one another. Bruce noticed Clint's finger tips brush against her which hung at her side. Was that accidental, or just familiarity? It did seem like he wanted to take her hand. Bruce didn't know. Natasha turned her head at one point to say something even more quietly to Clint. A tiny smile broke out on his face. That's when Bruce looked away. He suddenly felt sneaky and weird. He suddenly realized he was doing exactly what he'd told Tony not to do. When he looked back at the others he immediately saw Tony's eyes not so subtly trained on the pair standing at the counter. Bruce almost laughed, but stifled it.

....

Atop Stark Tower that night, midnight arrived with a chill. Clint sat close to Natasha, his coat collar pulled up around his cheeks. Natasha took the temperature a bit better. She always had. The two of them sat with their legs dangling freely over New York City. This roof was the best ledge they had ever had to themselves. At least, according to Clint it was. Natasha wasn't so much the one to rate ledges.

"I like Pepper." She said succintly.

"Me too." Clint agreed. "Think Stark knows how good he's got it?"

"He knows." Natasha said. Tony Stark was many things. Shallow, despite his attempt to appear so, was not one of them.

Clint shifted his weight which caused him to inhale sharply. Natasha had bruised his ribs in the gym that morning. He was fine, but bruised ribs were bruised ribs. She would have apologized, but for them this wasn't an offense, nor would either of them even consider it an injury. Nat had needed to fight back, and if she had to bruise his ribs to feel like nobody would ever control her again, he was happy to let her.

Clint didn't say anything about the pain, but he did say something she didn't expect.

"So, I know why you beat me up,-"

"Why you let me beat you up." She corrected.

"Yes. Why I let you." He couldn't hide the stupid little smile as he said it. "But," he said with a straight face again. "Can we talk about it?"

Natasha sighed. "Really? We're doing this?"

"Hey, you know I'm happy to let you work out what you've gotta work out. But, you know as well as I do that even you can benefit from a little verbiage. ...Or at least I can."

"That barely hurts you." She contested.

Clint just laughed. He found it so funny when he could push her to argue like a kid. He'd been at it for years.

"I know," he said with another laugh, a laugh that probably hurt. "I'm just saying I'm sitting right here. ...I'm always right here."

She nodded. They both knew Clint didn't actually need details, that he was asking for her sake. Though, it was hard for him to see her affected the way she was. What was worse was how much he know she hated being in that state. So, she began to speak for his sake as much as hers.

"Not since I was a child have I been helpless. I never promised myself consciously, but I knew I would never let it happen again. Many of the things that happened when I was small I can barely remember but I never had the choice. I was theirs to control and to build, and they did build me. So when I was something they couldn't control anymore, I took my life back. ...sort of."

She looked at Clint. "Clint, I still had an out when you met me."

His mouth twitched with a smile. He know that and wouldn't have wanted it otherwise. He knew she could have turned their first meeting around, or, at the very least, made it even. But, true to form, he had started talking and she had to hear him out.

The good humor faded from her voice as quick as it had come. "I have worked hard to put aside any moment where little Natasha waited for the worst with no out."

Clint said nothing, though his eyes did not leave her face. He knew all the things she implied and it made his insides twist. Looking at her in that moment, though, all he could see was the strongest person he'd ever known.

"And the dream?" he coaxed quietly.

"I was a girl again. They matched me in a spar with an easily beatable opponent. It was just a little boy and I was going to destroy him. We began. He begged for mercy and then... he exploded into a monster. There was nothing I could do. Then you woke me."

Clint nodded. The Hulk had reintroduced her to fear which she hadn't known since the Red Room. Now here she was, admitting it the best way she knew. He looked up into the sky at what passed for stars. His fingers found hers beside him on the ledge.

"Nat," he said.

"Yeah?" She answered, focusing on the feel of Clint's thumb brushing back and forth across her ring finger.

"He's afraid too."

She nodded.

Clint looked toward to street far below. "...So am I."

Natasha did not have a responce for that. Instead, she got to her feet. Clint looked up at her.

"We should sleep," was all she said.

"Yeah," he agreed, getting up as well.

As they walked wordlessly back into the building, Natasha slipped her arm through his and around his back. This was all the response she had for him that night. He returned the gesture and held her closely as they went.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken me soooooooooo long.

Clint didn't feel guilty for what he had done, nor was he afraid of judgement for it. It was understood what had happened. What he had done had been done against his will. It had been done to him. What did hang over him was doubt. Since the dust settled in New York and he'd swallowed that last bite of shawarma, Clint couldn't be certain that he could really trust himself, and that scared him. It wasn't debilitating and it came and went, but it came often enough. Sometimes it was when he looked at Natasha, or when he realized these people considered him an ally. It was a feeling that he might snap at any moment and it made him so uneasy. It made him distance himself. He couldn't avoid the belief that maybe all the things he'd done and tried to do were really just who he was. Regardless of whether or not he wanted it, maybe Loki had only unleashed his true self. He tried to remember that it was a lie, but sometimes he simply couldn't. There were nights he would wake up terrified of what he might do again. He would push himself toward the edge of the bed, as far from Natasha as he could. Only a couple of times he chose the floor. How could he know he wouldn't suddenly attack her? Clint understood it was crazy, but in those moments fear was to powerful.

After their talk on the roof, both of them had gone to sleep feeling ok, and that was good enough. Ok meant wrapping his arms around Natasha and falling asleep with the fear on the outer reaches of his periphery. Natasha, for all her steel and deadliness, was quite the cuddler, and Clint always loved that. Before sleep pulled him safely under, he felt Natasha lean closer and kiss him softly. Unconsciousness settled over him with a little smile printed on his face.

Ok, however, was short lived. Natasha, in her sleep, had shifted into her customary curled up position. Clint, laying on his back in his usual way, awoke from an iciness spreading through his body. For half a second his mind raced in terror as his fingers immediately ran to the spot on his sternum. It wasn't frozen and he let his body relax. He allowed himself to exhale and just lay there for a moment, ribs still aching, heart pounding. There was nothing at the center of his chest but his wedding ring and his own warm, red blood flowing beneath the skin. That was a comfort, but the longer he lay there the more another terrifying sensation began to grow. It overwhelmed him so much that he had shifted so far from where Natasha lay beside him that he nearly hung off the edge of the bed. The floor beckoned like a safe place, but he wanted to stay next to Natasha. So he closed his eyes and breathed. In and out. In and out. He directed all of his attention to the air filling his lungs, his diaphragm expanding, and the sharp pain it caused in his ribs. His focused breathing kept the thoughts at bay and his body began to relax. Sleep was moving in smoothly until he opened his eyes and saw Natasha's peaceful sleeping face. All the terror came crashing back down on him, ripping his calm from his grasp. He'd lost and, with an enormous feeling of shame, slipped off the bed and settled onto the floor. Clint curled up tightly, hating himself for giving in.

. . .

"Clint."

His eyes opened.

"Don't sleep down there." Her voice was even, as it always was.

Reluctantly he pushed himself into sitting position and forced himself to meet her eyes. She moved off of the bed and sat down in front of him.

"It's not you." Clint said, breaking eye contact with her.

"I know."

He hesitated. "I needed some space."

"You did or I did?"

He closed his eyes.

"I can't trust myself, Nat. Just understand that."

"Get up." Nastasha stood up and waited for him.

He looked up at her.

"Get up." She repeated.

Slowly, still looking at her, he rose to his feet.

She took his hand and led him out of the room and down the hall to their gym. He saw where they were going and made no protest.

Stepping barefooted out onto the mat, he rubbed his hands together once. "You sure you want to do this right now?"

"We're doing this."

She wore a tank and sweats. He watched her bare feet set themselves into position. Clint sighed and readied himself as well. He wore sweats as well, but was shirtless. Natasha looked for a moment at the wedding ring that hung from the chain on his neck. That's why they were doing this. That, and the debt.

"Ready?" Clint asked.

"You first."

"Tasha-"

"Go." was all she said.

Hesitating for only a second, he came at her, but it was such a heartless effort. Natasha got irritated and shoved him back.

"Again."

He came forward. She hit him in the ribs.

Clint bent down, in pain. He inhaled sharply and spat an angry curse.

Natasha just watched. "Come on. Aren't you going to snap?" She prodded.

He leveled a stare at her and shook his head with mild annoyance.

"You're eyes aren't blue yet. I'm not afraid."

"Wow. Two low blows in under a minute. I'm impressed." Clint said, straightening up again and stepping toward her. He shook out his hands and pumped his fists a couple of times. "Why are you such a persistent pain in the-"

With one seamless movement, Natasha brought him to the ground. She stood back, awaiting his next move, with a small smirk on her lips. "Why do you have to talk about everything?"

But he didn't smile as he got to his feet. He was irritated, but his return attack was not immediate. She could tell he hesitated, questioning his intentions. If he was angry at her, did it mean he wanted to hurt her? His doubts were scrawled across his face.

Natasha bridged the gap without a second thought. She struck for his rib cage, unafraid of hurting him. He blocked her jab, his forearm absorbing the force of her blow. She twisted away smoothly, striking a second time. Clint caught her fist and moved to bring her to the ground, but she wrenched gracefully from his grasp and put a few steps between them.

"Wasn't so bad was it?"

Clint just looked at her, irritation, fear, and amusement all playing across his features.

"Why did you wake up?" His question caught her be surprise. Her playful expression faded fast.

"Same reason you did."

"Ice?"

"Chains."

"Nobody owns you anymore, Natasha."

"They raised me in fear. That was their control. The Hulk has that same power over me, Clint."

"So you're afraid? It doesn't change what you've chosen."

She was looking down at the mat now.

"Tasha."

"What?"

"You don't have masters anymore."

She looked back up at him. "And neither do you."

The small gleam of a smile appeared in his eyes. "…So can you stop punching me in the ribs? Because you're gonna break 'em and then I really will hold it against you."

The little smirk returned to her lips and she shook her head. Clint rolled his eyes as she came forward, renewing her attack.

This is what they did. It's how they unpacked the pain inside them. Whatever weighed on their minds was on the mat. It had always been that way. It started when they were first partnered up. Her distrust and confusion, her willingness to prove herself trustworthy, and her need to be tested. Clint had felt it from the earliest days of knowing her. In turn she knew what he brought. The need for her to trust him, his continuous desire to demonstrate the control he had over his incredible aptitude to kill. When they sparred, nothing was left unsaid.

His and Nat's getaway a little over a month ago had helped a lot. The time they spent away had had been Natasha's idea. Clint's ice cold fingers, 30 minutes recovering under a hot shower and his overt shame in her presence had made the decision very simple for her. He needed to be reclaimed, not just recalibrated. So they left. It was an old safe house of Natasha's on the Atlantic coast up in Canada. Unknown to both SHIELD and The Red Room, it was more of a retreat now. It was just a little cabin tucked into the trees and rocks on a secluded beach. Clint spent his evenings there watching the sun go down from up on the mossy roof. Nastasha let him have that time for himself. When the sun would finally set, he would come down and they would take to the shore and spar. That's how she made him share his guilt, his anger. He was so angry. She could feel its intensity in his every movement. The sun would eventually peek over the horizon and Nastasha would then put an end to it. Breathing heavily, sweat pouring over him, he would just look at her.

"You need to sleep." She was all she would say. Each night that followed was much the same. She showed him her trust. He showed her his ugly terror. By the time they stepped out of the elevator and into their new home in Stark Tower, Clint's guilt had been beat of out him. But that doubt still clung around the hidden places of his heart. Thankfully, that wasn't a place Natasha was afraid of.

So, on this occasion, sometime after four in the morning they went back to bed. Natasha curled up on her side and Clint lay on his back. His head nestled against her chest while she draped her arm across his. They were asleep in seconds and nobody saw them for the rest of that day.


End file.
